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The word got around, in light of these, frankly, hilarious riots going on around the capitol, it only made sense that the royal families sought to bolster their... defenses? With their houses ransacked again and again, food growing scarcer and scarcer by the day, Aivon wondered just how many people would even want the sort of job Lord... Pavlos of Marikas was offering. But, it wasn't his prerogative, nor his concern. The promise of glittering coin, especially in the midst of his obligations with Adrestus dwindling as he made himself at home... Greed mustered in Aivon's soul, the opportunity to leverage for a sweet payday.
Money can't even but these people food. But, it can buy me...
He allowed himself to imagine it for a moment of sweet reverie, knocking back his third tankard of mead before tossing a coin on the table. The faces in this tavern seemed deadened, emaciated. If it wasn't for Adrestus, he'd never have chosen to come to this kingdom given just how grim it was getting. Taengea had its slough of chaos, but none of it was so devastating as the prospect of mass starvation. Aivon didn't fuss it. With mead in his belly and his own affinity for self-preservation, none of these wretches were his concern.
It was jarring, how the patrons in his vicinity were using coins to play little games, so worn on by the mess stirred in the wake of... whatever it was that had happened. He'd heard off-handed comments about some interloper, attacks on the palati... In his long absence from the kingdom of reason and logic, it seemed like it'd gotten much more interesting.
With his prospects non-existent and his thirst slaked, he decided to pay a visit to the asking lord. A fluid gait guided him through the streets, which seemed to be growing barer and barer by the day.
What a bore.
It might be good, to find something to occupy his attention. With how bleak this place looked, all the distraction in the world couldn't stop him from retching. The smell, he suspected, was the worst bit. The commons seemed less and less concerned about their presentation when they lived on the verge of death each day. As he drew closer to his destination, however, the look of the world changed. Here, buildings weren't scratched with recent weapon clash, the destitute not littering the streets.
I didn't realize how close to the palati they are, he mused, an idle thing as he turned a corner and found himself trudging, somewhat carefully, through the courtyard until he was met with the gate and two guards who stood bearing spears. Crossing them together, the guards eyed Aivon with suspicion, leading the man to raise his hands in a show of 'surrender'. His lips curved into a smile before he said,
"I'm just here following rumours. Is the lord present? I'd like to speak with him about a job."
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Bodyguard, eh?
The word got around, in light of these, frankly, hilarious riots going on around the capitol, it only made sense that the royal families sought to bolster their... defenses? With their houses ransacked again and again, food growing scarcer and scarcer by the day, Aivon wondered just how many people would even want the sort of job Lord... Pavlos of Marikas was offering. But, it wasn't his prerogative, nor his concern. The promise of glittering coin, especially in the midst of his obligations with Adrestus dwindling as he made himself at home... Greed mustered in Aivon's soul, the opportunity to leverage for a sweet payday.
Money can't even but these people food. But, it can buy me...
He allowed himself to imagine it for a moment of sweet reverie, knocking back his third tankard of mead before tossing a coin on the table. The faces in this tavern seemed deadened, emaciated. If it wasn't for Adrestus, he'd never have chosen to come to this kingdom given just how grim it was getting. Taengea had its slough of chaos, but none of it was so devastating as the prospect of mass starvation. Aivon didn't fuss it. With mead in his belly and his own affinity for self-preservation, none of these wretches were his concern.
It was jarring, how the patrons in his vicinity were using coins to play little games, so worn on by the mess stirred in the wake of... whatever it was that had happened. He'd heard off-handed comments about some interloper, attacks on the palati... In his long absence from the kingdom of reason and logic, it seemed like it'd gotten much more interesting.
With his prospects non-existent and his thirst slaked, he decided to pay a visit to the asking lord. A fluid gait guided him through the streets, which seemed to be growing barer and barer by the day.
What a bore.
It might be good, to find something to occupy his attention. With how bleak this place looked, all the distraction in the world couldn't stop him from retching. The smell, he suspected, was the worst bit. The commons seemed less and less concerned about their presentation when they lived on the verge of death each day. As he drew closer to his destination, however, the look of the world changed. Here, buildings weren't scratched with recent weapon clash, the destitute not littering the streets.
I didn't realize how close to the palati they are, he mused, an idle thing as he turned a corner and found himself trudging, somewhat carefully, through the courtyard until he was met with the gate and two guards who stood bearing spears. Crossing them together, the guards eyed Aivon with suspicion, leading the man to raise his hands in a show of 'surrender'. His lips curved into a smile before he said,
"I'm just here following rumours. Is the lord present? I'd like to speak with him about a job."
Bodyguard, eh?
The word got around, in light of these, frankly, hilarious riots going on around the capitol, it only made sense that the royal families sought to bolster their... defenses? With their houses ransacked again and again, food growing scarcer and scarcer by the day, Aivon wondered just how many people would even want the sort of job Lord... Pavlos of Marikas was offering. But, it wasn't his prerogative, nor his concern. The promise of glittering coin, especially in the midst of his obligations with Adrestus dwindling as he made himself at home... Greed mustered in Aivon's soul, the opportunity to leverage for a sweet payday.
Money can't even but these people food. But, it can buy me...
He allowed himself to imagine it for a moment of sweet reverie, knocking back his third tankard of mead before tossing a coin on the table. The faces in this tavern seemed deadened, emaciated. If it wasn't for Adrestus, he'd never have chosen to come to this kingdom given just how grim it was getting. Taengea had its slough of chaos, but none of it was so devastating as the prospect of mass starvation. Aivon didn't fuss it. With mead in his belly and his own affinity for self-preservation, none of these wretches were his concern.
It was jarring, how the patrons in his vicinity were using coins to play little games, so worn on by the mess stirred in the wake of... whatever it was that had happened. He'd heard off-handed comments about some interloper, attacks on the palati... In his long absence from the kingdom of reason and logic, it seemed like it'd gotten much more interesting.
With his prospects non-existent and his thirst slaked, he decided to pay a visit to the asking lord. A fluid gait guided him through the streets, which seemed to be growing barer and barer by the day.
What a bore.
It might be good, to find something to occupy his attention. With how bleak this place looked, all the distraction in the world couldn't stop him from retching. The smell, he suspected, was the worst bit. The commons seemed less and less concerned about their presentation when they lived on the verge of death each day. As he drew closer to his destination, however, the look of the world changed. Here, buildings weren't scratched with recent weapon clash, the destitute not littering the streets.
I didn't realize how close to the palati they are, he mused, an idle thing as he turned a corner and found himself trudging, somewhat carefully, through the courtyard until he was met with the gate and two guards who stood bearing spears. Crossing them together, the guards eyed Aivon with suspicion, leading the man to raise his hands in a show of 'surrender'. His lips curved into a smile before he said,
"I'm just here following rumours. Is the lord present? I'd like to speak with him about a job."
The posting for a personal guard had been put out around a week ago, and Pavlos had received ten applicants, mostly mercenaries but they had all been sent away after failing his test, empty handed and disgruntled. None of them had gotten past his regular soldiers who Pavlos often trained himself. To join as his family bodyguard they needed to be able to at least take down his first defense. It was pathetic really, and the lord was not particularly hopeful that anyone would live up to his expectations. Of course his wife did not care for his sudden decision to hire additional security, feeling the soldiers they had not was sufficient enough.
It didn't matter what she thought, the riots had gotten out of hand, and it was only a matter of time before some penniless peasant thought it prudent to attack a noble for their riches, Pavlos would do everything in his power to make sure that none of his family members were under their mercy. That did not mean he would settle for the usual riff raff of mercenaries that were loyal only to gold, where honor and trust did not touch their greedy minds. No, Pavlos needed a man who would kill on command, and would defend his family onto his death. Would anyone come to fit his high standards?
One of the guards who had been defending the gate had come inside to call his attention to the man inquiring about his job posting. Pavlos nodded his back to his post, setting his goblet on the small round tabel in front of him before he stood, folding his hands behind his back.
Hopefully this one is not as useless as all the others.
The lord followed the soldier out to the gate, the sudden gust of wind blowing his chiton around his legs like a tapestry around a pole. He laid eyes on the man, silent for a moment before he waved a hand for the gates to be opened.
"What is your name?" He asked gruffly, his thick brow raising in expectancy. As he waited for an answer he would do his normal scanning scrutiny, looking the man from head to toe. Strong. Lean, and tall. He would be quick in a scuffle if he had ay skill, a bit too much of a pretty boy, but he only had that thought due to his eldest daughter Agathe. She had a greedy eye for a man with a healthy head of hair, and chiseled jaw.
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The posting for a personal guard had been put out around a week ago, and Pavlos had received ten applicants, mostly mercenaries but they had all been sent away after failing his test, empty handed and disgruntled. None of them had gotten past his regular soldiers who Pavlos often trained himself. To join as his family bodyguard they needed to be able to at least take down his first defense. It was pathetic really, and the lord was not particularly hopeful that anyone would live up to his expectations. Of course his wife did not care for his sudden decision to hire additional security, feeling the soldiers they had not was sufficient enough.
It didn't matter what she thought, the riots had gotten out of hand, and it was only a matter of time before some penniless peasant thought it prudent to attack a noble for their riches, Pavlos would do everything in his power to make sure that none of his family members were under their mercy. That did not mean he would settle for the usual riff raff of mercenaries that were loyal only to gold, where honor and trust did not touch their greedy minds. No, Pavlos needed a man who would kill on command, and would defend his family onto his death. Would anyone come to fit his high standards?
One of the guards who had been defending the gate had come inside to call his attention to the man inquiring about his job posting. Pavlos nodded his back to his post, setting his goblet on the small round tabel in front of him before he stood, folding his hands behind his back.
Hopefully this one is not as useless as all the others.
The lord followed the soldier out to the gate, the sudden gust of wind blowing his chiton around his legs like a tapestry around a pole. He laid eyes on the man, silent for a moment before he waved a hand for the gates to be opened.
"What is your name?" He asked gruffly, his thick brow raising in expectancy. As he waited for an answer he would do his normal scanning scrutiny, looking the man from head to toe. Strong. Lean, and tall. He would be quick in a scuffle if he had ay skill, a bit too much of a pretty boy, but he only had that thought due to his eldest daughter Agathe. She had a greedy eye for a man with a healthy head of hair, and chiseled jaw.
The posting for a personal guard had been put out around a week ago, and Pavlos had received ten applicants, mostly mercenaries but they had all been sent away after failing his test, empty handed and disgruntled. None of them had gotten past his regular soldiers who Pavlos often trained himself. To join as his family bodyguard they needed to be able to at least take down his first defense. It was pathetic really, and the lord was not particularly hopeful that anyone would live up to his expectations. Of course his wife did not care for his sudden decision to hire additional security, feeling the soldiers they had not was sufficient enough.
It didn't matter what she thought, the riots had gotten out of hand, and it was only a matter of time before some penniless peasant thought it prudent to attack a noble for their riches, Pavlos would do everything in his power to make sure that none of his family members were under their mercy. That did not mean he would settle for the usual riff raff of mercenaries that were loyal only to gold, where honor and trust did not touch their greedy minds. No, Pavlos needed a man who would kill on command, and would defend his family onto his death. Would anyone come to fit his high standards?
One of the guards who had been defending the gate had come inside to call his attention to the man inquiring about his job posting. Pavlos nodded his back to his post, setting his goblet on the small round tabel in front of him before he stood, folding his hands behind his back.
Hopefully this one is not as useless as all the others.
The lord followed the soldier out to the gate, the sudden gust of wind blowing his chiton around his legs like a tapestry around a pole. He laid eyes on the man, silent for a moment before he waved a hand for the gates to be opened.
"What is your name?" He asked gruffly, his thick brow raising in expectancy. As he waited for an answer he would do his normal scanning scrutiny, looking the man from head to toe. Strong. Lean, and tall. He would be quick in a scuffle if he had ay skill, a bit too much of a pretty boy, but he only had that thought due to his eldest daughter Agathe. She had a greedy eye for a man with a healthy head of hair, and chiseled jaw.
Once the spears were let down and the gates opened, Aivon had his eyes only for one thing. The head lord of house Marikas stood before him, and it was an intriguing thing. This man seemed just past the prime of his life, and held a familiar bearing that led the charlatan to believe that he wasn't merely some spoiled brat suckling on his father's power teat. While military experience wasn't the way Aivon had gained his prowess, it was perhaps, the nobler path to gaining martial prowess.
But, Aivon scoffed at the notion of nobility. Advantages were advantages, and this man's offer was too sweet to refuse. He wondered what implications that sort of offer held, but nevertheless, Pavlos of Marikas seemed to hold some sort of plan, something that guided his selection. He had men, after all. Surely, he was looking for competence? Aivon could supply him with that, and he nodded once the first question was asked. It was the logical first one to ask. Aivon felt his lips curve into a grin, but disallowed it. Schooling his expression into practiced neutrality, he answered,
"Antton."
Names were a funny thing for Aivon. He passed them around again and again, never seeking to gather enough esteem with one of them to form a reputation. One way or the other, reputations held sway, power over a person. They were either beholden to them or obsessed with them, and in truth, the ghost was neither. The scoundrel stepped forward, offering a short bow of respect before he let his gaze slide along the extravagant offering that was the Marikas courtyard. He always found such displays ostentatious, too extra to ever be real. But in the end, he knew for a fact that he'd do the very same if he held that sort of means.
Maybe a couple more whores around, he lamented just as he shifted his attention back towards the lord. He was clearly sussing the man out, scrutinizing him for signs of weakness or ill-intent. But, whatever intentions the scoundrel held, they remained fixed behind unchanging eyes. His lips curved into that instinctive smile just before he lowered one hand to snake digits along the handle of his short blade. He didn't seek to draw it, merely inform the royal of its presence. They'd stood too long in relative silence for there to be anything but some trial in the other man's mind.
"Antton of Lands Afar. Rumour has it, lord, that you're looking for bodyguards. Takes a bit of a different skill set from your normal hands, hm? With respect, what's the catch? The number you put out there is... tantalizing."
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Once the spears were let down and the gates opened, Aivon had his eyes only for one thing. The head lord of house Marikas stood before him, and it was an intriguing thing. This man seemed just past the prime of his life, and held a familiar bearing that led the charlatan to believe that he wasn't merely some spoiled brat suckling on his father's power teat. While military experience wasn't the way Aivon had gained his prowess, it was perhaps, the nobler path to gaining martial prowess.
But, Aivon scoffed at the notion of nobility. Advantages were advantages, and this man's offer was too sweet to refuse. He wondered what implications that sort of offer held, but nevertheless, Pavlos of Marikas seemed to hold some sort of plan, something that guided his selection. He had men, after all. Surely, he was looking for competence? Aivon could supply him with that, and he nodded once the first question was asked. It was the logical first one to ask. Aivon felt his lips curve into a grin, but disallowed it. Schooling his expression into practiced neutrality, he answered,
"Antton."
Names were a funny thing for Aivon. He passed them around again and again, never seeking to gather enough esteem with one of them to form a reputation. One way or the other, reputations held sway, power over a person. They were either beholden to them or obsessed with them, and in truth, the ghost was neither. The scoundrel stepped forward, offering a short bow of respect before he let his gaze slide along the extravagant offering that was the Marikas courtyard. He always found such displays ostentatious, too extra to ever be real. But in the end, he knew for a fact that he'd do the very same if he held that sort of means.
Maybe a couple more whores around, he lamented just as he shifted his attention back towards the lord. He was clearly sussing the man out, scrutinizing him for signs of weakness or ill-intent. But, whatever intentions the scoundrel held, they remained fixed behind unchanging eyes. His lips curved into that instinctive smile just before he lowered one hand to snake digits along the handle of his short blade. He didn't seek to draw it, merely inform the royal of its presence. They'd stood too long in relative silence for there to be anything but some trial in the other man's mind.
"Antton of Lands Afar. Rumour has it, lord, that you're looking for bodyguards. Takes a bit of a different skill set from your normal hands, hm? With respect, what's the catch? The number you put out there is... tantalizing."
Once the spears were let down and the gates opened, Aivon had his eyes only for one thing. The head lord of house Marikas stood before him, and it was an intriguing thing. This man seemed just past the prime of his life, and held a familiar bearing that led the charlatan to believe that he wasn't merely some spoiled brat suckling on his father's power teat. While military experience wasn't the way Aivon had gained his prowess, it was perhaps, the nobler path to gaining martial prowess.
But, Aivon scoffed at the notion of nobility. Advantages were advantages, and this man's offer was too sweet to refuse. He wondered what implications that sort of offer held, but nevertheless, Pavlos of Marikas seemed to hold some sort of plan, something that guided his selection. He had men, after all. Surely, he was looking for competence? Aivon could supply him with that, and he nodded once the first question was asked. It was the logical first one to ask. Aivon felt his lips curve into a grin, but disallowed it. Schooling his expression into practiced neutrality, he answered,
"Antton."
Names were a funny thing for Aivon. He passed them around again and again, never seeking to gather enough esteem with one of them to form a reputation. One way or the other, reputations held sway, power over a person. They were either beholden to them or obsessed with them, and in truth, the ghost was neither. The scoundrel stepped forward, offering a short bow of respect before he let his gaze slide along the extravagant offering that was the Marikas courtyard. He always found such displays ostentatious, too extra to ever be real. But in the end, he knew for a fact that he'd do the very same if he held that sort of means.
Maybe a couple more whores around, he lamented just as he shifted his attention back towards the lord. He was clearly sussing the man out, scrutinizing him for signs of weakness or ill-intent. But, whatever intentions the scoundrel held, they remained fixed behind unchanging eyes. His lips curved into that instinctive smile just before he lowered one hand to snake digits along the handle of his short blade. He didn't seek to draw it, merely inform the royal of its presence. They'd stood too long in relative silence for there to be anything but some trial in the other man's mind.
"Antton of Lands Afar. Rumour has it, lord, that you're looking for bodyguards. Takes a bit of a different skill set from your normal hands, hm? With respect, what's the catch? The number you put out there is... tantalizing."
Pavlos felt his lips twitch beneath his mustache but he held onto his stoic impression nonetheless. There were some rare instances when where you meet someone, there was an instant liking. Surprisingly that was exactly what he felt for this young man, and he couldn't help it. In some weird way, he reminded Pavlos of a younger version of himself had he not been born a noble. A man with confidence, honor and swagger. It whispered old memories to him but he brushed them off. Pavlos didn't miss how the man lightly gripped the hilt of his sword, not a threat, but a warning that he was well aware on how to use it. The lord could respect that, for all Antton knew this could all be some elaborate trap. This only raised his hopes higher that maybe he had finally found someone.
"You heard correctly, I am in the market for such a man." He swept his arm out for Antton to follow him further into the estate. "Catch? There is no catch, I will pay the amount I said as long as the job is done to my satisfaction." He walked the quickest route towards the training grounds, bypassing his family members completely. He didn't need any extra attention right now, and he had high hopes for this one.
The guard the lord wanted Antton to spar with was already waiting dutifully in the bit, only wearing light armor and a naked blade. Pavlos swerved to face what he assumed to be another freelance mercenary, and gestured to Ajax, who stood silently waiting.
"As you have probably guessed, I have a few tests before I can hire you on as the family bodyguard. I have three men, the best in my army, here with me today. I want you to fight each one, once a week. One day to fight, and six days to recover. If you are as good as I think you are, you will remain here for three weeks, and afterwards we will discuss your payments and how this will all work. Good?
Pavlos turned his attention towards Ajax, whom was already looking at him and nodded once. "You know the rules. Should he agree to this, there will be no killing, or fatal injuries. Anything else goes, but whoever calls for forfeit will lose. A grin was now fully forming on Pavlos's face as he flicked his silver tinted gaze back towards Antton.
"Well? What do you say?"
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Pavlos felt his lips twitch beneath his mustache but he held onto his stoic impression nonetheless. There were some rare instances when where you meet someone, there was an instant liking. Surprisingly that was exactly what he felt for this young man, and he couldn't help it. In some weird way, he reminded Pavlos of a younger version of himself had he not been born a noble. A man with confidence, honor and swagger. It whispered old memories to him but he brushed them off. Pavlos didn't miss how the man lightly gripped the hilt of his sword, not a threat, but a warning that he was well aware on how to use it. The lord could respect that, for all Antton knew this could all be some elaborate trap. This only raised his hopes higher that maybe he had finally found someone.
"You heard correctly, I am in the market for such a man." He swept his arm out for Antton to follow him further into the estate. "Catch? There is no catch, I will pay the amount I said as long as the job is done to my satisfaction." He walked the quickest route towards the training grounds, bypassing his family members completely. He didn't need any extra attention right now, and he had high hopes for this one.
The guard the lord wanted Antton to spar with was already waiting dutifully in the bit, only wearing light armor and a naked blade. Pavlos swerved to face what he assumed to be another freelance mercenary, and gestured to Ajax, who stood silently waiting.
"As you have probably guessed, I have a few tests before I can hire you on as the family bodyguard. I have three men, the best in my army, here with me today. I want you to fight each one, once a week. One day to fight, and six days to recover. If you are as good as I think you are, you will remain here for three weeks, and afterwards we will discuss your payments and how this will all work. Good?
Pavlos turned his attention towards Ajax, whom was already looking at him and nodded once. "You know the rules. Should he agree to this, there will be no killing, or fatal injuries. Anything else goes, but whoever calls for forfeit will lose. A grin was now fully forming on Pavlos's face as he flicked his silver tinted gaze back towards Antton.
"Well? What do you say?"
Pavlos felt his lips twitch beneath his mustache but he held onto his stoic impression nonetheless. There were some rare instances when where you meet someone, there was an instant liking. Surprisingly that was exactly what he felt for this young man, and he couldn't help it. In some weird way, he reminded Pavlos of a younger version of himself had he not been born a noble. A man with confidence, honor and swagger. It whispered old memories to him but he brushed them off. Pavlos didn't miss how the man lightly gripped the hilt of his sword, not a threat, but a warning that he was well aware on how to use it. The lord could respect that, for all Antton knew this could all be some elaborate trap. This only raised his hopes higher that maybe he had finally found someone.
"You heard correctly, I am in the market for such a man." He swept his arm out for Antton to follow him further into the estate. "Catch? There is no catch, I will pay the amount I said as long as the job is done to my satisfaction." He walked the quickest route towards the training grounds, bypassing his family members completely. He didn't need any extra attention right now, and he had high hopes for this one.
The guard the lord wanted Antton to spar with was already waiting dutifully in the bit, only wearing light armor and a naked blade. Pavlos swerved to face what he assumed to be another freelance mercenary, and gestured to Ajax, who stood silently waiting.
"As you have probably guessed, I have a few tests before I can hire you on as the family bodyguard. I have three men, the best in my army, here with me today. I want you to fight each one, once a week. One day to fight, and six days to recover. If you are as good as I think you are, you will remain here for three weeks, and afterwards we will discuss your payments and how this will all work. Good?
Pavlos turned his attention towards Ajax, whom was already looking at him and nodded once. "You know the rules. Should he agree to this, there will be no killing, or fatal injuries. Anything else goes, but whoever calls for forfeit will lose. A grin was now fully forming on Pavlos's face as he flicked his silver tinted gaze back towards Antton.
"Well? What do you say?"
Pavlos was an interesting one. With all the power and prestige one could possibly hope for, it was only natural that he failed to understand something clear.
People don't fight for free.
The premise he gave was a solid one. Invited to stay in the Marikas house for as long as he was able to remain victorious over some trained soldiers. The notion intrigued Aivon. Danger. It was a beautiful thing, to feel the pulsing beat of one's heart against their ribcage. The faster it went, the more alive he felt, that intoxicating feeling that only drugs could really embody. His opponent was wearing armour, held an unsheathed blade and stood at attention, the picture of his profession.
What a little kiss ass.
Aivon wondered if Pavlos expected this of him, to be some faceless part of the Marikas monster. While the scratch offered was good, he had his obligations, the foremost of which was his own whimsy. But, there were other matters to consider. Staying in the manor for so long wasn't in his best interests. He still had Adrestus to consider, and had no real interest in holding down this sort of job for months or years at a time.
"Your test seems fine, for what's being offered. However, your offer is perhaps too considerate. A week between bouts is too long for me, my lord. If I emerge from it unscathed, then I'll be sitting on my hands for a week with little to do. As interesting as your manor is to look at, I doubt running around here will be a good use of my time. Allow me to set my own times for these bouts, and I will agree."
A sidelong glance towards his opponent was all he took before he added,
"Provided that I'm compensated for my time as well. Blood isn't free, my lord."
Fear did not rule Aivon's words, but want. He needed an immediate reward, something to sink his teeth into provided that he emerged from this victorious. His other conditions could wait, given that once he earned the lord's favour, he presumed that his word would be infinitely more valuable.
The following command, indicating that this would be a non-lethal battle did little to affect his mentality. He'd stared death in the face more than once. It no longer frightened him.
He'd worry about the rest of those details after everything was settled. Looking to his opponent, Aivon lifted his arms over his head, interlocking his hands and letting a slow stretch wring the cold from his bones. Once he was finished, he drew his blade, winking at his opponent before he said,
"On your command, lord."
Once Pavlos indicated that they began, Aivon did nothing to progress. Rather, he turned the short blade in his hand, then pointed it at the guard. His gaze met the man's before following the sheen of his blade.
"Come on, make the first move. Make your master proud."
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This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Pavlos was an interesting one. With all the power and prestige one could possibly hope for, it was only natural that he failed to understand something clear.
People don't fight for free.
The premise he gave was a solid one. Invited to stay in the Marikas house for as long as he was able to remain victorious over some trained soldiers. The notion intrigued Aivon. Danger. It was a beautiful thing, to feel the pulsing beat of one's heart against their ribcage. The faster it went, the more alive he felt, that intoxicating feeling that only drugs could really embody. His opponent was wearing armour, held an unsheathed blade and stood at attention, the picture of his profession.
What a little kiss ass.
Aivon wondered if Pavlos expected this of him, to be some faceless part of the Marikas monster. While the scratch offered was good, he had his obligations, the foremost of which was his own whimsy. But, there were other matters to consider. Staying in the manor for so long wasn't in his best interests. He still had Adrestus to consider, and had no real interest in holding down this sort of job for months or years at a time.
"Your test seems fine, for what's being offered. However, your offer is perhaps too considerate. A week between bouts is too long for me, my lord. If I emerge from it unscathed, then I'll be sitting on my hands for a week with little to do. As interesting as your manor is to look at, I doubt running around here will be a good use of my time. Allow me to set my own times for these bouts, and I will agree."
A sidelong glance towards his opponent was all he took before he added,
"Provided that I'm compensated for my time as well. Blood isn't free, my lord."
Fear did not rule Aivon's words, but want. He needed an immediate reward, something to sink his teeth into provided that he emerged from this victorious. His other conditions could wait, given that once he earned the lord's favour, he presumed that his word would be infinitely more valuable.
The following command, indicating that this would be a non-lethal battle did little to affect his mentality. He'd stared death in the face more than once. It no longer frightened him.
He'd worry about the rest of those details after everything was settled. Looking to his opponent, Aivon lifted his arms over his head, interlocking his hands and letting a slow stretch wring the cold from his bones. Once he was finished, he drew his blade, winking at his opponent before he said,
"On your command, lord."
Once Pavlos indicated that they began, Aivon did nothing to progress. Rather, he turned the short blade in his hand, then pointed it at the guard. His gaze met the man's before following the sheen of his blade.
"Come on, make the first move. Make your master proud."
Pavlos was an interesting one. With all the power and prestige one could possibly hope for, it was only natural that he failed to understand something clear.
People don't fight for free.
The premise he gave was a solid one. Invited to stay in the Marikas house for as long as he was able to remain victorious over some trained soldiers. The notion intrigued Aivon. Danger. It was a beautiful thing, to feel the pulsing beat of one's heart against their ribcage. The faster it went, the more alive he felt, that intoxicating feeling that only drugs could really embody. His opponent was wearing armour, held an unsheathed blade and stood at attention, the picture of his profession.
What a little kiss ass.
Aivon wondered if Pavlos expected this of him, to be some faceless part of the Marikas monster. While the scratch offered was good, he had his obligations, the foremost of which was his own whimsy. But, there were other matters to consider. Staying in the manor for so long wasn't in his best interests. He still had Adrestus to consider, and had no real interest in holding down this sort of job for months or years at a time.
"Your test seems fine, for what's being offered. However, your offer is perhaps too considerate. A week between bouts is too long for me, my lord. If I emerge from it unscathed, then I'll be sitting on my hands for a week with little to do. As interesting as your manor is to look at, I doubt running around here will be a good use of my time. Allow me to set my own times for these bouts, and I will agree."
A sidelong glance towards his opponent was all he took before he added,
"Provided that I'm compensated for my time as well. Blood isn't free, my lord."
Fear did not rule Aivon's words, but want. He needed an immediate reward, something to sink his teeth into provided that he emerged from this victorious. His other conditions could wait, given that once he earned the lord's favour, he presumed that his word would be infinitely more valuable.
The following command, indicating that this would be a non-lethal battle did little to affect his mentality. He'd stared death in the face more than once. It no longer frightened him.
He'd worry about the rest of those details after everything was settled. Looking to his opponent, Aivon lifted his arms over his head, interlocking his hands and letting a slow stretch wring the cold from his bones. Once he was finished, he drew his blade, winking at his opponent before he said,
"On your command, lord."
Once Pavlos indicated that they began, Aivon did nothing to progress. Rather, he turned the short blade in his hand, then pointed it at the guard. His gaze met the man's before following the sheen of his blade.
"Come on, make the first move. Make your master proud."
Pavlos stepped back and nodded his head toward Ajax, a sign for him to begin.
NPC - Ajax turned his attention away from his lord, his pale blue eyes focusing on the opponent before him. This would be the sixth man he's had to face for Lord Pavlos's test, and none had managed to get past him yet. He could feel his lord's disappointment in each failure, but Ajax knew that if he let up even a little on these men, then someone unworthy could possibly begin to guard the family. That wouldn't do. What if one of the Marikas died because of his empathy?
Ajax cleared his mind from such troubling thoughts, squaring his shoulders back and taking in a deep breath. The noises around him faded away until there was only a low hum in his mind, and the slow breaths from his lungs. He gripped the metal hilt to his short broadsword with both hands, raising the blade up to chest level. Words were not needed to respond to the man's coarse words, confidence would not determine his skill.
Ajax's blue gaze quickly scanned Antton's defenses, it seemed open and lax but he could sense a cool danger emanating from the man so he would not fall for the obvious trap. With his muscles tensing in preparation he sprung forward and launched a series of attacks that involved quick stabs, and high arcs aimed towards the man's center, attempting to break down his guard and test his reflexes. Of course this didn't mean he simply left himself open, he kept his elbows tucked in tight to brace for a counter attack, his thick arms strong enough to take on heavy blows against his sword. He also remained light on his feet in case he needed to spring backwards, away from a slice that could spill his blood.
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Pavlos stepped back and nodded his head toward Ajax, a sign for him to begin.
NPC - Ajax turned his attention away from his lord, his pale blue eyes focusing on the opponent before him. This would be the sixth man he's had to face for Lord Pavlos's test, and none had managed to get past him yet. He could feel his lord's disappointment in each failure, but Ajax knew that if he let up even a little on these men, then someone unworthy could possibly begin to guard the family. That wouldn't do. What if one of the Marikas died because of his empathy?
Ajax cleared his mind from such troubling thoughts, squaring his shoulders back and taking in a deep breath. The noises around him faded away until there was only a low hum in his mind, and the slow breaths from his lungs. He gripped the metal hilt to his short broadsword with both hands, raising the blade up to chest level. Words were not needed to respond to the man's coarse words, confidence would not determine his skill.
Ajax's blue gaze quickly scanned Antton's defenses, it seemed open and lax but he could sense a cool danger emanating from the man so he would not fall for the obvious trap. With his muscles tensing in preparation he sprung forward and launched a series of attacks that involved quick stabs, and high arcs aimed towards the man's center, attempting to break down his guard and test his reflexes. Of course this didn't mean he simply left himself open, he kept his elbows tucked in tight to brace for a counter attack, his thick arms strong enough to take on heavy blows against his sword. He also remained light on his feet in case he needed to spring backwards, away from a slice that could spill his blood.
Pavlos stepped back and nodded his head toward Ajax, a sign for him to begin.
NPC - Ajax turned his attention away from his lord, his pale blue eyes focusing on the opponent before him. This would be the sixth man he's had to face for Lord Pavlos's test, and none had managed to get past him yet. He could feel his lord's disappointment in each failure, but Ajax knew that if he let up even a little on these men, then someone unworthy could possibly begin to guard the family. That wouldn't do. What if one of the Marikas died because of his empathy?
Ajax cleared his mind from such troubling thoughts, squaring his shoulders back and taking in a deep breath. The noises around him faded away until there was only a low hum in his mind, and the slow breaths from his lungs. He gripped the metal hilt to his short broadsword with both hands, raising the blade up to chest level. Words were not needed to respond to the man's coarse words, confidence would not determine his skill.
Ajax's blue gaze quickly scanned Antton's defenses, it seemed open and lax but he could sense a cool danger emanating from the man so he would not fall for the obvious trap. With his muscles tensing in preparation he sprung forward and launched a series of attacks that involved quick stabs, and high arcs aimed towards the man's center, attempting to break down his guard and test his reflexes. Of course this didn't mean he simply left himself open, he kept his elbows tucked in tight to brace for a counter attack, his thick arms strong enough to take on heavy blows against his sword. He also remained light on his feet in case he needed to spring backwards, away from a slice that could spill his blood.
Agathe held no idea of where in the day she had woken, but it was bright and hellish which did nothing for the blinding pain behind her eyes. If she cared to use her skills of deduction she would know she had overdone it on the wine again, in this family everyone held one vice or another just to numb the pain of having to deal with each other Agathe? Held a few and soon enough she would indulge in another as she hadn’t missed the news of trials happening in search of a family bodyguard and with the prospect of people being ordered to stay away from the public spaces, she needed the entertainment. So dressing in her more comfortable fabrics, her hair being rearranged into the loose braid she sported in the mornings Agathe stepped into the world of the living.
“A plate of fruit and a goblet of wine.. Bigger the better.” She uttered with a snap of her fingers and went to search for the bloody trials that would take up her afternoon, passing a more well known guard she smiled and asked on the trial whereabouts, “Why didn’t I think of that?” She heard some remark about wine or another but she paid the man no mind as she made her way around the grounds until the sights found her.
“Oh papa.. You shouldn’t have.” Agathe sighed with a hand finding her chest as if silently wishing for her heart to still, she found a nice spot to observe and lounged herself down across a stone bench which resided far enough from the father but close enough to the blood sports that will wet more than her appetite. Chin perching in her hand, she shooed away the staff that brought her plate of fruit and her wine “Maybe being locked up in this place wont be so bad afterall..”
There wasn’t an inch of him that Agathe wasn’t studying, every twinge of muscle that caught her eye but she particularly noticed his sharp jawline. Her weakness, it wasn’t long at all until she gained a wolfish glint to her features idly plucking a grape from a vine upon her plate and popping it into her mouth ignoring her fathers predictable glare in her direction as she offered a shrug without meeting his expression for even a second. Her attentions to busy being divided between the prospect and Ajax, neither were unkind on the eye.
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Agathe held no idea of where in the day she had woken, but it was bright and hellish which did nothing for the blinding pain behind her eyes. If she cared to use her skills of deduction she would know she had overdone it on the wine again, in this family everyone held one vice or another just to numb the pain of having to deal with each other Agathe? Held a few and soon enough she would indulge in another as she hadn’t missed the news of trials happening in search of a family bodyguard and with the prospect of people being ordered to stay away from the public spaces, she needed the entertainment. So dressing in her more comfortable fabrics, her hair being rearranged into the loose braid she sported in the mornings Agathe stepped into the world of the living.
“A plate of fruit and a goblet of wine.. Bigger the better.” She uttered with a snap of her fingers and went to search for the bloody trials that would take up her afternoon, passing a more well known guard she smiled and asked on the trial whereabouts, “Why didn’t I think of that?” She heard some remark about wine or another but she paid the man no mind as she made her way around the grounds until the sights found her.
“Oh papa.. You shouldn’t have.” Agathe sighed with a hand finding her chest as if silently wishing for her heart to still, she found a nice spot to observe and lounged herself down across a stone bench which resided far enough from the father but close enough to the blood sports that will wet more than her appetite. Chin perching in her hand, she shooed away the staff that brought her plate of fruit and her wine “Maybe being locked up in this place wont be so bad afterall..”
There wasn’t an inch of him that Agathe wasn’t studying, every twinge of muscle that caught her eye but she particularly noticed his sharp jawline. Her weakness, it wasn’t long at all until she gained a wolfish glint to her features idly plucking a grape from a vine upon her plate and popping it into her mouth ignoring her fathers predictable glare in her direction as she offered a shrug without meeting his expression for even a second. Her attentions to busy being divided between the prospect and Ajax, neither were unkind on the eye.
Agathe held no idea of where in the day she had woken, but it was bright and hellish which did nothing for the blinding pain behind her eyes. If she cared to use her skills of deduction she would know she had overdone it on the wine again, in this family everyone held one vice or another just to numb the pain of having to deal with each other Agathe? Held a few and soon enough she would indulge in another as she hadn’t missed the news of trials happening in search of a family bodyguard and with the prospect of people being ordered to stay away from the public spaces, she needed the entertainment. So dressing in her more comfortable fabrics, her hair being rearranged into the loose braid she sported in the mornings Agathe stepped into the world of the living.
“A plate of fruit and a goblet of wine.. Bigger the better.” She uttered with a snap of her fingers and went to search for the bloody trials that would take up her afternoon, passing a more well known guard she smiled and asked on the trial whereabouts, “Why didn’t I think of that?” She heard some remark about wine or another but she paid the man no mind as she made her way around the grounds until the sights found her.
“Oh papa.. You shouldn’t have.” Agathe sighed with a hand finding her chest as if silently wishing for her heart to still, she found a nice spot to observe and lounged herself down across a stone bench which resided far enough from the father but close enough to the blood sports that will wet more than her appetite. Chin perching in her hand, she shooed away the staff that brought her plate of fruit and her wine “Maybe being locked up in this place wont be so bad afterall..”
There wasn’t an inch of him that Agathe wasn’t studying, every twinge of muscle that caught her eye but she particularly noticed his sharp jawline. Her weakness, it wasn’t long at all until she gained a wolfish glint to her features idly plucking a grape from a vine upon her plate and popping it into her mouth ignoring her fathers predictable glare in her direction as she offered a shrug without meeting his expression for even a second. Her attentions to busy being divided between the prospect and Ajax, neither were unkind on the eye.
Daniil growled in protest as light flooded the room. To say that she was not a morning person was dead on the money, but today that light interrupted an interesting dream, and it was just getting good when the light broke in behind her eyelids and roused her. When she found out who did it, she'd give them a good yelling at, if she didn't land a few good slaps.
Melissa moved around on silent feet until she noticed that her mistress' eyes tracked her movements across the room. She stopped and turned to her. "M'lady the house is abuzz. It seems your father is to put a stranger through his paces...."
She didn't get to finish her sentence because Daniil was a sudden blur of movement. "Food Melissia and my training clothes if you please."
"Your Lady mother would be angry if she knew that you were meeting a stranger that way."
Daniil rolled her eyes. "I am not inclined to care at this moment in time. Today is my training day and I do not take nicely to it being messed with unless the Gods choose to play." she said in a cool tone that definitely indicated that the youngest of the Marikas was not in the best of moods.
Melissa nodded and did as she was told, pulling out the light green chiton that her lady loved to wear on days like this and laid it on the bed. Anther slave brought in a wash bowl filled with steaming hot water that was scented with lavender.
Dani washed up and dried off before she allowed Melissa to help her dress and braid her long dark hair. She slid on her sandals and allowed Melissa to lace them up.
Daniil's breakfast when it arrived was porridge and cheese with fruit and watered wine. She could eat more once she was done with what she had in mind.
She nodded her approval and then moved out of the room she shared with her sisters and headed through the house and down the steps into the courtyard. She did not have to stop and see where her either Agathe or Elena were. She knew that Agathe would be taking in the view of the stranger while Elena would be with their mother.
She came to a stop next to her sister. "Really Agathe, you could have woke me up." Daniil said as hazel eyes danced over the stranger, taking his measure.
Daniil smiled at Ajax, one of her favorite sparring partners. "Make sure you give him a good dance Ajax." she said, a wicked gleam in her eyes as she smiled.
Turning she looked at Pavlos. "Interesting choice Father."
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Daniil growled in protest as light flooded the room. To say that she was not a morning person was dead on the money, but today that light interrupted an interesting dream, and it was just getting good when the light broke in behind her eyelids and roused her. When she found out who did it, she'd give them a good yelling at, if she didn't land a few good slaps.
Melissa moved around on silent feet until she noticed that her mistress' eyes tracked her movements across the room. She stopped and turned to her. "M'lady the house is abuzz. It seems your father is to put a stranger through his paces...."
She didn't get to finish her sentence because Daniil was a sudden blur of movement. "Food Melissia and my training clothes if you please."
"Your Lady mother would be angry if she knew that you were meeting a stranger that way."
Daniil rolled her eyes. "I am not inclined to care at this moment in time. Today is my training day and I do not take nicely to it being messed with unless the Gods choose to play." she said in a cool tone that definitely indicated that the youngest of the Marikas was not in the best of moods.
Melissa nodded and did as she was told, pulling out the light green chiton that her lady loved to wear on days like this and laid it on the bed. Anther slave brought in a wash bowl filled with steaming hot water that was scented with lavender.
Dani washed up and dried off before she allowed Melissa to help her dress and braid her long dark hair. She slid on her sandals and allowed Melissa to lace them up.
Daniil's breakfast when it arrived was porridge and cheese with fruit and watered wine. She could eat more once she was done with what she had in mind.
She nodded her approval and then moved out of the room she shared with her sisters and headed through the house and down the steps into the courtyard. She did not have to stop and see where her either Agathe or Elena were. She knew that Agathe would be taking in the view of the stranger while Elena would be with their mother.
She came to a stop next to her sister. "Really Agathe, you could have woke me up." Daniil said as hazel eyes danced over the stranger, taking his measure.
Daniil smiled at Ajax, one of her favorite sparring partners. "Make sure you give him a good dance Ajax." she said, a wicked gleam in her eyes as she smiled.
Turning she looked at Pavlos. "Interesting choice Father."
Daniil growled in protest as light flooded the room. To say that she was not a morning person was dead on the money, but today that light interrupted an interesting dream, and it was just getting good when the light broke in behind her eyelids and roused her. When she found out who did it, she'd give them a good yelling at, if she didn't land a few good slaps.
Melissa moved around on silent feet until she noticed that her mistress' eyes tracked her movements across the room. She stopped and turned to her. "M'lady the house is abuzz. It seems your father is to put a stranger through his paces...."
She didn't get to finish her sentence because Daniil was a sudden blur of movement. "Food Melissia and my training clothes if you please."
"Your Lady mother would be angry if she knew that you were meeting a stranger that way."
Daniil rolled her eyes. "I am not inclined to care at this moment in time. Today is my training day and I do not take nicely to it being messed with unless the Gods choose to play." she said in a cool tone that definitely indicated that the youngest of the Marikas was not in the best of moods.
Melissa nodded and did as she was told, pulling out the light green chiton that her lady loved to wear on days like this and laid it on the bed. Anther slave brought in a wash bowl filled with steaming hot water that was scented with lavender.
Dani washed up and dried off before she allowed Melissa to help her dress and braid her long dark hair. She slid on her sandals and allowed Melissa to lace them up.
Daniil's breakfast when it arrived was porridge and cheese with fruit and watered wine. She could eat more once she was done with what she had in mind.
She nodded her approval and then moved out of the room she shared with her sisters and headed through the house and down the steps into the courtyard. She did not have to stop and see where her either Agathe or Elena were. She knew that Agathe would be taking in the view of the stranger while Elena would be with their mother.
She came to a stop next to her sister. "Really Agathe, you could have woke me up." Daniil said as hazel eyes danced over the stranger, taking his measure.
Daniil smiled at Ajax, one of her favorite sparring partners. "Make sure you give him a good dance Ajax." she said, a wicked gleam in her eyes as she smiled.
Turning she looked at Pavlos. "Interesting choice Father."
It was a shame that the soldier didn't respond to his goading, but he supposed it was only appropriate.
Come on now, give it a smile. This is fun, he mused, just as the soldier started running towards him and immediately came in for the attack. These soldiers had the mentality of group tactics ingrained so deeply into their head, that they forgot was it was to engage in single combat. Aivon had room to play with, not confined by the flow of battle. As Ajax sent forth thrust after thrust, he took a half-step backward, glancing at the broad of his blade with defensive strikes meant only to deflect.
Half-step after half-step, his head titling just slightly to provide him with a glimpse behind him. This man was broader than he, and clearly relied on his strength to crush his opponent's guard and render him defenseless. Rather than oppose such force, he evaded, creating just enough distance. Once he felt the approach of a wall, he swerved completely, Ajax's blade moving past him as he pivoted on his left foot to take to the man's back. If able, he'd attempt to push off from the man, pulling backwards yet again as he revised his stance.
Blade held in his left hand, his arm was slightly bent, facing the blade to level with his own chest. His free hand clenched, then loosened, fingers extended outward as a tremor moved through his body. The blood began to boil in his veins, his lips pursing before expression withered altogether. The charlatan's blows were not thrusts, but arcs, checking at Ajax's guard, quarter-steps taking forward in an effort to drive him back. His strikes, while not overly powerful, shifted in direction, alternating feints with the shifting of his feet.
With the parameters in play, Aivon did not intend to strike through Ajax's guard. Instead, he went under it intent on his blade striking at hands and wrists. Where Ajax sought to test his skill, Aivon only wanted to win. Whether the opponent kept his hands, it was of no concern to him. As he struck he shifted his weight, keeping light on his feet until he backed off.
Exchanges, one after the other. If Aivon intended to defeat a larger opponent, he needed to keep him moving. His free hand wiggled its fingertips, brandishing a wink in the other fighter's direction, silently beckoning him with his goading posturing. His heart raced in his chest, his lips curved again in a smile as he felt the waxing pain of small cuts forming against his fingers and along his arm.
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It was a shame that the soldier didn't respond to his goading, but he supposed it was only appropriate.
Come on now, give it a smile. This is fun, he mused, just as the soldier started running towards him and immediately came in for the attack. These soldiers had the mentality of group tactics ingrained so deeply into their head, that they forgot was it was to engage in single combat. Aivon had room to play with, not confined by the flow of battle. As Ajax sent forth thrust after thrust, he took a half-step backward, glancing at the broad of his blade with defensive strikes meant only to deflect.
Half-step after half-step, his head titling just slightly to provide him with a glimpse behind him. This man was broader than he, and clearly relied on his strength to crush his opponent's guard and render him defenseless. Rather than oppose such force, he evaded, creating just enough distance. Once he felt the approach of a wall, he swerved completely, Ajax's blade moving past him as he pivoted on his left foot to take to the man's back. If able, he'd attempt to push off from the man, pulling backwards yet again as he revised his stance.
Blade held in his left hand, his arm was slightly bent, facing the blade to level with his own chest. His free hand clenched, then loosened, fingers extended outward as a tremor moved through his body. The blood began to boil in his veins, his lips pursing before expression withered altogether. The charlatan's blows were not thrusts, but arcs, checking at Ajax's guard, quarter-steps taking forward in an effort to drive him back. His strikes, while not overly powerful, shifted in direction, alternating feints with the shifting of his feet.
With the parameters in play, Aivon did not intend to strike through Ajax's guard. Instead, he went under it intent on his blade striking at hands and wrists. Where Ajax sought to test his skill, Aivon only wanted to win. Whether the opponent kept his hands, it was of no concern to him. As he struck he shifted his weight, keeping light on his feet until he backed off.
Exchanges, one after the other. If Aivon intended to defeat a larger opponent, he needed to keep him moving. His free hand wiggled its fingertips, brandishing a wink in the other fighter's direction, silently beckoning him with his goading posturing. His heart raced in his chest, his lips curved again in a smile as he felt the waxing pain of small cuts forming against his fingers and along his arm.
It was a shame that the soldier didn't respond to his goading, but he supposed it was only appropriate.
Come on now, give it a smile. This is fun, he mused, just as the soldier started running towards him and immediately came in for the attack. These soldiers had the mentality of group tactics ingrained so deeply into their head, that they forgot was it was to engage in single combat. Aivon had room to play with, not confined by the flow of battle. As Ajax sent forth thrust after thrust, he took a half-step backward, glancing at the broad of his blade with defensive strikes meant only to deflect.
Half-step after half-step, his head titling just slightly to provide him with a glimpse behind him. This man was broader than he, and clearly relied on his strength to crush his opponent's guard and render him defenseless. Rather than oppose such force, he evaded, creating just enough distance. Once he felt the approach of a wall, he swerved completely, Ajax's blade moving past him as he pivoted on his left foot to take to the man's back. If able, he'd attempt to push off from the man, pulling backwards yet again as he revised his stance.
Blade held in his left hand, his arm was slightly bent, facing the blade to level with his own chest. His free hand clenched, then loosened, fingers extended outward as a tremor moved through his body. The blood began to boil in his veins, his lips pursing before expression withered altogether. The charlatan's blows were not thrusts, but arcs, checking at Ajax's guard, quarter-steps taking forward in an effort to drive him back. His strikes, while not overly powerful, shifted in direction, alternating feints with the shifting of his feet.
With the parameters in play, Aivon did not intend to strike through Ajax's guard. Instead, he went under it intent on his blade striking at hands and wrists. Where Ajax sought to test his skill, Aivon only wanted to win. Whether the opponent kept his hands, it was of no concern to him. As he struck he shifted his weight, keeping light on his feet until he backed off.
Exchanges, one after the other. If Aivon intended to defeat a larger opponent, he needed to keep him moving. His free hand wiggled its fingertips, brandishing a wink in the other fighter's direction, silently beckoning him with his goading posturing. His heart raced in his chest, his lips curved again in a smile as he felt the waxing pain of small cuts forming against his fingers and along his arm.
Pavlos didn't notice his daughters until he heard their voices, turning in time to see Daniil greet her sister, and Agathe eyeball Antton with those terrible disrespectful eyes. A scowl automatically twisted his expression, and he approached them with heat ready to leap from his tongue. However, Daniil stopped him cold with her statement. The lord had to reel himself in, but his glare never wavered from his eldest child.
"What do you mean by interesting?" He asked Daniil suspiciously, trying to guess if she were interested in the man the same as Agathe. He saw that her eyes were not dilated with lust and he relaxed a little. As far as he knew she was still attracted to men, but she did not stalk them like future prey like most noble and peasant women did. Pavlos could go as far to argue that Agathe thought it a art, her duty if you will, to pluck men from a rack like they were salted beef, to devour and savor in her loins.
Shuddering in disgust, Pavlos returned his attention to the fight;
NPC: Ajax's stamina was not something to laugh at, although he bore more wounds than the other man, still he kept up. He was bigger, broader and stronger, and eventually he should be able to hack the man down with less limbs than what he started.
So Ajax pressed forward, swinging and swinging. Over, under, stab through, duck. Sweat dripped into his eyes, and it burned because he refused to blink, and his arms were starting to feel heavy and sluggish, he didn't know how long he could keep going.
It almost came at a relief when Antton got through his weak guard, but instead of risking the hands that defended his lord, and his family, he dropped his sword, jumping back from Antton quick blade. Ajax dragged air into his heaving lungs, his skin shining with sweat. The soldier couldn't help but send a grin towards the other man, his open gashes throbbing with pain. This was actually fun. Usually sparring lessons or training was direct, to the point and harsh. This was something different, it was almost as of Antton didn't care if he won or lost, or if either of them died. Like he only lived in the moment, and it was spreading to Ajax, his heart pumped wildly, and he could hear his blood rushing through his ears. It was adrenaline. It had to be.
Ajax wiped the blood from his cheek before he suddenly rushed forward, attempting to surprise Antton with his speed, although he was a big man, he also worked with his agility. Diving for the man's legs, he tried to tackle him to the ground, throwing a few punches with his left hand, while trying to pin down Antton's sword with the other.
"He is not my master. He saved me from poverty and gave me a home. Perhaps he could do the same for you, pirate." Ajax grunted between clenched teeth, lips spread in a feral grin.
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Pavlos didn't notice his daughters until he heard their voices, turning in time to see Daniil greet her sister, and Agathe eyeball Antton with those terrible disrespectful eyes. A scowl automatically twisted his expression, and he approached them with heat ready to leap from his tongue. However, Daniil stopped him cold with her statement. The lord had to reel himself in, but his glare never wavered from his eldest child.
"What do you mean by interesting?" He asked Daniil suspiciously, trying to guess if she were interested in the man the same as Agathe. He saw that her eyes were not dilated with lust and he relaxed a little. As far as he knew she was still attracted to men, but she did not stalk them like future prey like most noble and peasant women did. Pavlos could go as far to argue that Agathe thought it a art, her duty if you will, to pluck men from a rack like they were salted beef, to devour and savor in her loins.
Shuddering in disgust, Pavlos returned his attention to the fight;
NPC: Ajax's stamina was not something to laugh at, although he bore more wounds than the other man, still he kept up. He was bigger, broader and stronger, and eventually he should be able to hack the man down with less limbs than what he started.
So Ajax pressed forward, swinging and swinging. Over, under, stab through, duck. Sweat dripped into his eyes, and it burned because he refused to blink, and his arms were starting to feel heavy and sluggish, he didn't know how long he could keep going.
It almost came at a relief when Antton got through his weak guard, but instead of risking the hands that defended his lord, and his family, he dropped his sword, jumping back from Antton quick blade. Ajax dragged air into his heaving lungs, his skin shining with sweat. The soldier couldn't help but send a grin towards the other man, his open gashes throbbing with pain. This was actually fun. Usually sparring lessons or training was direct, to the point and harsh. This was something different, it was almost as of Antton didn't care if he won or lost, or if either of them died. Like he only lived in the moment, and it was spreading to Ajax, his heart pumped wildly, and he could hear his blood rushing through his ears. It was adrenaline. It had to be.
Ajax wiped the blood from his cheek before he suddenly rushed forward, attempting to surprise Antton with his speed, although he was a big man, he also worked with his agility. Diving for the man's legs, he tried to tackle him to the ground, throwing a few punches with his left hand, while trying to pin down Antton's sword with the other.
"He is not my master. He saved me from poverty and gave me a home. Perhaps he could do the same for you, pirate." Ajax grunted between clenched teeth, lips spread in a feral grin.
Pavlos didn't notice his daughters until he heard their voices, turning in time to see Daniil greet her sister, and Agathe eyeball Antton with those terrible disrespectful eyes. A scowl automatically twisted his expression, and he approached them with heat ready to leap from his tongue. However, Daniil stopped him cold with her statement. The lord had to reel himself in, but his glare never wavered from his eldest child.
"What do you mean by interesting?" He asked Daniil suspiciously, trying to guess if she were interested in the man the same as Agathe. He saw that her eyes were not dilated with lust and he relaxed a little. As far as he knew she was still attracted to men, but she did not stalk them like future prey like most noble and peasant women did. Pavlos could go as far to argue that Agathe thought it a art, her duty if you will, to pluck men from a rack like they were salted beef, to devour and savor in her loins.
Shuddering in disgust, Pavlos returned his attention to the fight;
NPC: Ajax's stamina was not something to laugh at, although he bore more wounds than the other man, still he kept up. He was bigger, broader and stronger, and eventually he should be able to hack the man down with less limbs than what he started.
So Ajax pressed forward, swinging and swinging. Over, under, stab through, duck. Sweat dripped into his eyes, and it burned because he refused to blink, and his arms were starting to feel heavy and sluggish, he didn't know how long he could keep going.
It almost came at a relief when Antton got through his weak guard, but instead of risking the hands that defended his lord, and his family, he dropped his sword, jumping back from Antton quick blade. Ajax dragged air into his heaving lungs, his skin shining with sweat. The soldier couldn't help but send a grin towards the other man, his open gashes throbbing with pain. This was actually fun. Usually sparring lessons or training was direct, to the point and harsh. This was something different, it was almost as of Antton didn't care if he won or lost, or if either of them died. Like he only lived in the moment, and it was spreading to Ajax, his heart pumped wildly, and he could hear his blood rushing through his ears. It was adrenaline. It had to be.
Ajax wiped the blood from his cheek before he suddenly rushed forward, attempting to surprise Antton with his speed, although he was a big man, he also worked with his agility. Diving for the man's legs, he tried to tackle him to the ground, throwing a few punches with his left hand, while trying to pin down Antton's sword with the other.
"He is not my master. He saved me from poverty and gave me a home. Perhaps he could do the same for you, pirate." Ajax grunted between clenched teeth, lips spread in a feral grin.
Agathe pushed her wine towards her sister, inviting the girl to sit with her; since their little talk and the more frequent attempts to be civil Agathe had remembered just how alike Daniil was to herself as she plucked another grape from her plate; nodding towards the soon to be sparring match. Her eyes aflame with interest, thumb stroking along her lower lip with something of a thoughtful sigh passing her lips, “Oh dear sister, I want to watch someone get wounded.. From afar, waking you? Was not worth the risk of being so.”
“In any case, if these riots are going the way I hear? He’ll be with us for quite some time.” Oh Agathe hoped that were true, if she couldn’t get past the walls to cause some trouble then inside them will have to do and short of toying with her darling sisters? There wasn’t much on offer and if she was to suffer another lesson in how to be a lady, she might just through herself to the poor and save her father the threats. “So very kind of you Papa to offer someone so easy on the eye..”
Agathe shifted her long legs to stretch on the marble bench so that she could casually perch herself on her elbows, sun blazing down upon her; the heat was becoming quite the curse now that her hair refused to lay right; her curls were never tight for long and everything just stuck to her skin; “Ajax, I require one thing.. Make him work, I want to see what he’s made of.”
“Gods above, this heat..” Agathe uttered exasperated as she slunk her gaze away to keep father out of her peripheral knowing that he was something close to scowling at her appreciation towards the new male. He was right in his thoughts that others male or female were like an art form to admire, Agathe had an eye for beauty and beauty held no standards for class much to her parents dismay it was a truth that held her separate from their version of politics. Poor, Rich, slumming it or living in comfort it didn’t matter in Agathes eye what did matter was how they were built and how they used what they were given by the gods such as now with her gaze transfixed upon the fight before her.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
This character is currently a work in progress.
Check out their information page here.
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Agathe pushed her wine towards her sister, inviting the girl to sit with her; since their little talk and the more frequent attempts to be civil Agathe had remembered just how alike Daniil was to herself as she plucked another grape from her plate; nodding towards the soon to be sparring match. Her eyes aflame with interest, thumb stroking along her lower lip with something of a thoughtful sigh passing her lips, “Oh dear sister, I want to watch someone get wounded.. From afar, waking you? Was not worth the risk of being so.”
“In any case, if these riots are going the way I hear? He’ll be with us for quite some time.” Oh Agathe hoped that were true, if she couldn’t get past the walls to cause some trouble then inside them will have to do and short of toying with her darling sisters? There wasn’t much on offer and if she was to suffer another lesson in how to be a lady, she might just through herself to the poor and save her father the threats. “So very kind of you Papa to offer someone so easy on the eye..”
Agathe shifted her long legs to stretch on the marble bench so that she could casually perch herself on her elbows, sun blazing down upon her; the heat was becoming quite the curse now that her hair refused to lay right; her curls were never tight for long and everything just stuck to her skin; “Ajax, I require one thing.. Make him work, I want to see what he’s made of.”
“Gods above, this heat..” Agathe uttered exasperated as she slunk her gaze away to keep father out of her peripheral knowing that he was something close to scowling at her appreciation towards the new male. He was right in his thoughts that others male or female were like an art form to admire, Agathe had an eye for beauty and beauty held no standards for class much to her parents dismay it was a truth that held her separate from their version of politics. Poor, Rich, slumming it or living in comfort it didn’t matter in Agathes eye what did matter was how they were built and how they used what they were given by the gods such as now with her gaze transfixed upon the fight before her.
Agathe pushed her wine towards her sister, inviting the girl to sit with her; since their little talk and the more frequent attempts to be civil Agathe had remembered just how alike Daniil was to herself as she plucked another grape from her plate; nodding towards the soon to be sparring match. Her eyes aflame with interest, thumb stroking along her lower lip with something of a thoughtful sigh passing her lips, “Oh dear sister, I want to watch someone get wounded.. From afar, waking you? Was not worth the risk of being so.”
“In any case, if these riots are going the way I hear? He’ll be with us for quite some time.” Oh Agathe hoped that were true, if she couldn’t get past the walls to cause some trouble then inside them will have to do and short of toying with her darling sisters? There wasn’t much on offer and if she was to suffer another lesson in how to be a lady, she might just through herself to the poor and save her father the threats. “So very kind of you Papa to offer someone so easy on the eye..”
Agathe shifted her long legs to stretch on the marble bench so that she could casually perch herself on her elbows, sun blazing down upon her; the heat was becoming quite the curse now that her hair refused to lay right; her curls were never tight for long and everything just stuck to her skin; “Ajax, I require one thing.. Make him work, I want to see what he’s made of.”
“Gods above, this heat..” Agathe uttered exasperated as she slunk her gaze away to keep father out of her peripheral knowing that he was something close to scowling at her appreciation towards the new male. He was right in his thoughts that others male or female were like an art form to admire, Agathe had an eye for beauty and beauty held no standards for class much to her parents dismay it was a truth that held her separate from their version of politics. Poor, Rich, slumming it or living in comfort it didn’t matter in Agathes eye what did matter was how they were built and how they used what they were given by the gods such as now with her gaze transfixed upon the fight before her.
